What If?
by scarlettoharris
Summary: What if Katniss and Peeta never competed in the Hunger Games? What would their lives look like? Would they still find each other? Hunger Games AU about Katniss and Peeta's lives if they never had to endure the Hunger Games
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

 _Author's note: Soooo, I know that HG fanfic was cool like forever ago, but I have been reading it again lately. So, I figured other people probably are still reading it too. Leave an suggestions you have in the comments, thanks!_

I draw in a deep breath, taking in the earthy smell of the surrounding woods. The smell of these woods is my absolute favorite thing about District 12. Sometimes, I come to these woods with no intention to hunt. I just need to inhale the smell, it calms me. Today, in particular, is one of those days that I need the wood's calming scent to put my mind at ease. It's the day of the reaping. At the end of this hellish day, one lucky boy and girl from 12 will be on a bullet train to the Capitol, where they are going to be put in an arena was 22 other kids to fight to the death. My younger sister, Prim, and I both have our names entered in the reaping. Not by choice, obviously, the Capitol forces us to until we are 18.

I hear a rustling of the leaves behind me, and I snap my neck around only to see Gale. Gale has been my best friend, practically family, since both our dad's died many years ago. We hunt together to provide food for our families. Gale walked up to stand beside me, I have never realized how tall he is until this moment when I had to look up to meet his eyes. He looked at me and furrowed his brow a little, as if trying to read my face, but then his eyes softened, "Don't worry too much about it, Catnip. There are tons of kids in 12, the odds of it being one of us, or Prim is very slim." How could he be so calm about the reaping? I haven't slept this entire week because I have been worrying about it so much. "Easy for you to say, you're 18, this is the last reaping you will ever have to face, Gale. I still have 2 more, and Prim has 6." My words came out more bitter and accusatory than intended, but Gale, bless him, didn't take my tone to heart, he just covers both my shoulders with his calloused hands and turns me toward him. He chuckles, "Thanks for projecting your anger on to me Catnip, good thing I can take it." I smile sheepishly and lower my eyes, "I'm sorry, I'm just worried about Prim." Gale grimaces, "I can only imagine how worried you are about her, but good news is, you have me to lean on. And, next year when Rory is in the reaping too, I'll have to lean on you too." He releases my shoulders from his calloused grip, and we turn back toward District 12 and begin the trek home

Once we slip through the electric fence, that is rarely actually on, that separates 12 from the woods, Gale and I part ways to go to our homes. But before we part Gale says, "Remember Catnip, whatever happens, today, we have each other and that's all that matters," and then he bows with an eccentric hand gesture and says in an accent that mocks how the Capitol people speak, "and may the odds be ever in your favor." I return the bowing gesture and say in the same accent, "Same to you Mr. Hawthorne." We both crack up laughing, I can't remember the last time I laughed that hard, like belly-aching hard. Then Gale gives me a friendly wink and turns to walk toward his house.

As I walked down the dusty path of red dirt to my home, I pass the Hob. The Hob is the black market of 12, and its where Gale and I sell most the extra game that we kill. It's basically just a bunch of shacks that are covered in a layer of coal dust from the mines here in 12. The kind of people who hang out at the Hob are not the kind folks you want to be seen within the light of day: drunks, prostitutes, and vendors selling a bounty of illegal items. But, there are a few good souls that just happen to make their living at the Hob. As I'm passing it, I see one of those good souls, Greasy Sae a vendor at the Hob who makes a mean bowl of soup, and we exchange a polite nod. People in 12 aren't overly friendly, which I appreciate because being friendly and bubbly all the time is extremely draining, to me at least. But on reaping day, exchanging grave looks is about as friendly as it gets. As I pass the Hob, I keep on walking until the intoxicating smell of fresh bread wafting from the Mellark's bakery stops me dead in my tracks. The Mellark's are one of the more well-off families in 12, due to their successful family bakery. They have a few sons, two that are older and have already married, and one my age, Peeta. Just thinking about him brings forth a memory that hits me like a ton of bricks. Me lying on the ground in rain, just after the death of my father, starving to death. Little Peeta, with his piercing blue eyes, throwing me a loaf of burnt bread that was supposed to be for his pigs. And his mother slapping him hard in the face for doing so. A debt I will never be able to repay. I take a step closer to peer into the bakery's glass case, and I see delicately and intricately frosted cakes and cookies, a luxury only a few in 12 can afford. As I ogle over the sweets, I notice a pair of blue eyes looking at from the counter inside the bakery. When I notice the eyes staring at me in the same manner that I stare at the sweets, I turn away quickly and start home again.

By the time I reach my home, which is not much more than a shack, in the Seam, I only have an hour to get ready for the reaping. For some reason, we always dress in our nicest clothes for the reaping. Which has never made much sense to me, but then again they do dress corpses nicely for their funeral.

When I open the front door, Prim greets me with a warm hug. Prim might be the friendliest person in the entire district, to know her is to love her. Whenever her bony little arms wrap around me, it makes my heart hurt a little. I wish I could provide her with enough food, so that she wasn't so skinny, although most children in 12 are. After my father died my mother kind of shut down and folded up within herself. Which left Prim and me to starve, until I learned how to hunt. Prim was so young at the time she doesn't remember my mother's mental break down, so she has a good relationship with her. I, on the other hand, do not. Ever since my father died, I have been more of a parent to Prim than she has, and I resent my mother for that, for making me grow up so fast.

After Prim releases me from her extremely tight hug, she leads me over to the tin tub, well really bucket, full of not-so-warm water for me to bath in. "Gee little duck, did you use all the hot water?", I teased. She raises one her dark eyebrows, despite having blonde hair, at me in a slightly sassy fashion, "Well, if you didn't spend all morning in the woods with Gale it would still be warm.". "Okay, okay fair enough," I said in a tone of mock defeat. I undressed and bathed quickly, spurred on by the icy temperature of the water. Then, I reluctantly let Prim braid my hair in a fancy fashion. I much prefer my simple braid to her intricate ones, which draw too much attention to me. But, she begs me and uses her puppy dog eyes, so I relinquish my hair to her control. I then slip on a simple dress, grab a hold of Prim's tiny hand and head out the door of our home to the town square for the reaping.

Chapter 2


	2. Chapter 2

As we draw nearer and nearer to the square, Prim's grip on my hand tightens with every step we take. When we are close enough to the square to see the lines of people waiting to be checked in be the Peacekeepers, I hear Prim intake a ragged breath. At the sound of her breath, I grasp her by the shoulders, as Gale did to me just this morning, and kneel down in front of her. I look into her blue eyes filling up with tears and which spill over and wet her dark, thick eyelashes. "Hey, hey little duck, don't cry, don't cry," I move one of my hands from her shoulder to caress her face, "your name is only in that lottery once. There are so many kids here with their names in so, so many more times than yours." She peers at me through the tears, and then she collapses her little body onto mine and hugs me. I slowly stroke her hair and whisper, "Don't you worry, little duck, you are going to be just fine." Then Prim releases me from the shackles of her hug, and I watch her as she dries her face of all her tears, holds her head up high, and without looking back at me, she walks into the check-in line.

What feels like seconds later, I am standing in a group of other 16-year-old girls. I need to know that Prim is with her group, so I stand on my tippy-toes and try my best to peer over the crowd to locate my sister. I see her standing in a vast crowd of other girls her age. She still has her head held high, acting strong. That is my Prim, trying to be brave. I feel anger bubble up in the back of my throat over the fact that my sweet little Prim, still a child, has to be brave at all, that she has to worry about facing death in an arena or not.

I am pulled away from my angry thoughts when I hear harsh taps on the microphone that sits on the porch of the justice building. I look up only to see a woman, in her 30s, dressed in the absolutely gaudy Capitol fashion. She has on a colorful wig, and even more colorful clothes to match. After her startling tap on the microphone, she starts her whole spiel and then we watch a video about the war and why we supposedly have to have the games. And she goes on and on saying the same unmitigated crap she does every single year, until after what seems like ages she finally says, "And what you have all been waiting for, it is time to draw the name of the lucky lady who will be District 12's female tribute." The Capitol lady then walks over to the comically large glass bowl, that holds the fate of every girl in 12, and she theatrically plucks a paper slip from the bowl. She then struts back over to where the mic is positioned on the stage and unnecessarily taps it again, bringing pain to my ears. But, I am so nervous about what name she might utter from her mouth next, I don't even notice. The woman inhales a deep breath and says, "And the female tribute for District 12 is, Primrose Everdeen! Where are darling?" And the next thing I know my entire world is black, and I am already out cold by the time my head hits the dirty, dusty ground of the town square.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

When I come to, I am looking at a ceiling that is not my own. I also have a searing headache, that makes even my eyes hurt, and it makes me feel almost dizzy like I'm in a semi-conscious state. I pull myself up groggily from my supine position and look around the foreign room that I'm in. After a quick inspection, I realize that this room is not so foreign after all, it's a room in the Hawthorne's house. I use all my strength to attempt to lift myself from the bed that I'm in, which I assume is Gale's. As I do so, I hear footsteps slapping the floor of the small house, walking very quickly toward me. Then, I see Gale practically sprint through the doorframe, "Woah, Woah Catnip, lay back down." he says in a soothing voice. Gale gingerly lies me back down in the bed, then he looks at me and frowns a little, "You hit your head pretty hard when you fainted in the square." The square? I furrow my brow trying to pick through the fragments of my memories and decipher as to why I was in the square. "Gale, what do you mean? We were in the woods hunting, we never even made it back to the square." As I uttered those words, Gale's face crumpled and took on an expression which I have seen only when he talks about his father's death. His eyes watered a little, but he wouldn't allow the tears to spill over and drench his face. He is trying to be brave, just like Prim was this morning during the reaping. The reaping…then, the memory of my little sister having her name drawn in the reaping this hit me like a ton of bricks.

I gasped and struggled to catch a decent breath that was capable of filling my lungs, for quite some time. When I finally had enough air in my lungs to speak, I practically screamed in a panicky voice that was so unlike me, "Prim! Her name got drawn in the reaping! Gale, where is Prim?" Gale lowered his eyes and stared at the floor for what seemed like years. I grabbed his chin, not so gently, and pulled his face up and toward me, so close our noses were practically touching, "Gale. You have to tell me where she is, I need to see her before she leaves for the Capitol." Gale, still avoiding eye contact while I spoke, finally looked me in my eyes and said in a broken voice, "Katniss, I'm so sorry, you have been out for a long time, she was put on a train to the Capitol hours ago." At this, I released my grip on his face and began to bawl.

While I sat in his bed crying, Gale was looking at me with the most perplexed look on his face. I can't say I blame him. I myself was pretty confused at my sudden outburst of tears. I never cry. I'm just not that kind of person who can cry when I'm sad, well usually. I couldn't even muster a tear at my own father's funeral. But, just the thought of my sweet little Prim being put in an arena to die as a spectacle, was enough for me to cry a river of salty tears. After the tears stopped actively flowing from eyes, I looked to Gale and said, "I, I didn't get to say goodbye to her Gale." He nodded sympathetically and pulled me into his arms, resting his chin on the top of my head. "I tried to get them to wait until you came to, so you could say your goodbyes, but those sons of bitches just drug her onto the train." Just the image of the peacekeepers, men in white space-suit looking dress, dragging Prim kicking and screaming onto the train is enough to trigger another waterfall of tears.

As I was trying my best to stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks, I came to a realization that felt like having a knife stabbed into my chest. I could have volunteered for her. If my stupid, pathetic wouldn't have fainted in the middle of the damn square, it would have been me headed to my death on a train, and not Prim. I shared my disturbing cognizance with Gale in between my strident sobs. Gale's face suddenly turned from soft and sympathetic to angry and almost annoyed, "Katniss you can't blame yourself for this. You are not the reason Prim is in the Games, that is all the Capitol's fault. You didn't create the games, they did," his tone continued to get harsher the more he talked, "If it wasn't for the Capitol creating the games in the first place, we wouldn't be in this situation and Prim would be safe at home, where she belongs. So, you have nothing to feel bad about, not even a little." I nodded slowly, but my tears continued to fall. Gale used one of his fingers to wipe the tears from my cheeks and looked into my eyes, his face sympathetic once again, and said, "Hey, hey no more tears Catnip. Prim wouldn't want you to cry her for like this. She would want you to be strong, for you and your mother."

My mother. Oh, no this is going to be my dad dying all over again. She is going to become a recluse that doesn't talk, move, and barely eats. "Gale, I don't know if I can deal with my mother shutting down again, last time was enough." Gale nodded knowingly, "You can get through this. I will help you get through this." I smiled weakly, "Thank you, Gale." I enveloped him in another hug, and he squeezed me so tight it almost forced the air out of my lungs. "You know I will always be here for you Catnip, no matter how annoying you get." Then we both giggled, as much as our current situation would allow.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Gale, my head is fine, I need to go home! Goodness only knows what state my mother is in right now." Although I don't particularly want to go home and pick up the shattered pieces that are my mother, I know I need to. Prim wouldn't want me to leave her to rot. "Katniss, you probably have a concussion, just lay back down. I can go check on her for you," he pleads. "Gale, this is just something that I need to do alone," I say with a sense of urgency in my voice. He finally concedes, "Fine, but you get home, check on her, and then you lay right back down in bed and rest." I roll my eyes at him, "Gee, Hawthorne, you sound like a mom." His face softens and he speaks sadly, "Well, your mom is falling down on the job right now, so I'm just stepping up for her."

When I set out for my house, which isn't too far from Gale's, the sky is already darkening. Despite my throbbing headache, I walk so fast I'm practically jogging because District 12 is not a place where you want to be out walking without the sunlight shining on your face. The second the stars come out, so do the creepers. Men stand in the doorways to their homes attempting to lure in young girls with the promise of a money. A couple of people on a street corner look as if they are making an illegal trade. The homeless also become especially vicious at night; I have had one grab my legs and cling on to my arms begging for spare change. A middle age man standing outside his home calls to me, "Hey pretty darling," I can almost smell the liquor on his breath from 15 yards away, "why don't you come spend a night with ole' Ben?" I do my best to ignore him and keep my head down, picking up my pace even more, just hoping I'll make it home in one piece.

When I finally arrive home, without any more close calls, I hesitate before turning the rusty doorknob. Do I really want to see what condition my mother is in? Do I really want to put myself through that psychological torture again? I have distinct memories of her during the months after my father's death: yelling at her to try and shake her from her trance, force-feeding her soup because she hadn't eaten in days, and bathing her because she wouldn't do it herself. All of which I don't care to think about too often, much less relive. Somehow, I finally find the gumption to twist the rust-covered knob. I take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for whatever state my mother may be in. Although, no amount of deep breathing could have prepared for what was behind that door.

Blood. So much blood. I've killed a lot of animals in my day, so blood is not an uncommon sight for me. But, I have never thought about exactly how much blood a human body contains. But now that I am looking at all my mother's blood puddled on the floor of my house, I know that its a lot. Especially considering my mother is, was, a rather tiny woman, so you wouldn't think that she would have even been capable of holding that much blood. But, she was.

When I walked in the door, there she was sprawled out on the floor. Her face still had an expression of pain on it, and her once pale blonde, now dark red, hair had fallen around her head like a halo. She had a laceration on each wrist, each one being about inch wide and just deep enough to cut through her veins. And in her right hand, she clung loosely to one of our kitchen knives, and it was smudged with her bloody fingerprints.

I didn't know what to do, so I just stared at her lifeless body lying on the floor. How could my mother be so selfish? Did she not realize that by taking her life, she also took pieces of mine? She took the pieces of me that had any love for her, the pieces that still believed in her, and most importantly the pieces that still believed in myself, that helped me believe that I was enough for her. But, I wasn't. I wasn't enough incentive for her to hang around a little longer.

As I continue to stare at her body, which was becoming increasingly stiff and pale, I realize that I have no sympathy for her. By taking her life, and leaving me here with practically no one, she had showed no sympathy for me either.

I bend down to where she is lying on the floor, and I take the blood covered knife out her hand and set it to the side. Then, in a merciless fashion, I grab her corpse by both arms and drag her out the front door into the cool night air. Thankfully, all my neighbors are asleep. So, I drag her behind our house, well mine now, and I drop her there, to deal with her later. I then head back inside to clean up the sticky accumulation of blood on the floor. Just another mess my mother left me to clean up. I do my best to get all the blood up, knowing I will have to finish it later. Now to take care of my mother.

When my father died, we had a simple funeral for him. It was all that we could afford. He deserved it. He died trying to support his family. My mother, on the other hand, died of pure selfishness, so I made the executive decision that she deserved no such kindness. I wouldn't even bury her if it weren't for the fact she would stick to high heaven. So, I spent the next few hours digging her a hole in the backyard. I dug it about five feet deep, so nothing would attempt to dig her up, and just wide enough for her body. Then, I unceremoniously push her body in it. I gave her one last look before burying her and said, "Prim could win you know. The chances are slim but its possible," a few tear sprung up in my eyes, not for my mother, but for Prim, "and how is she gonna feel when she comes home and your dead? Ever think about that?" Then, I take a shovel-full of moist, red dirt and toss it right onto her lifeless face that was still contorted with pain..

 _Author's Note: Super heavy chapter, I know, I know. I pinky promise that there is gonna be more light, fluffy stuff in the future! Thanks for reading!_

 _-scarletoharris_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

 _Author's Note: So, so sorry for not posting yesterday! But, I have spent the past few hours in my giant Hogwarts shirt with a cup of hot tea writing a few chapters and IT HAS BEEN ABSOLUTE HEAVEN! I hope y'all love the chapter!_

 _-scarlettoharris_

For the next week, the only times I left my home was to go to the woods to hunt. But, I went to the woods by myself, I couldn't bear to tell Gale about my mother. He would just look at me with his sad eyes and try to comfort me, which may sound wonderful, but I really can't handle Gale sympathizing right now.

Although I have spent most of these past few days in the woods, I have spent the other portion of my time keeping up with the coverage of the pre-hunger games. Before each games, they do almost 24-7 live coverage of practically everything the tributes are doing. But, I have been paying attention to any other tribute, except Prim. I barely recognized her the during the tribute parade, and unless she is training I only see her in fancy dresses and makeup. She looks so much older, a spitting image of my mother. The only thing that is the same about her is her braids.

The thing that had me most surprised was how happy Prim looked, or at least seemed to look. I had expected her to look miserable and broken, but instead, she looks new and shiny. She has also made friends with a girl her age from 11, Rue. I'm not saying that I'm upset she's unhappy, but I hate thinking she is better off in the Capitol than here, with me.

As I am walking along the dusty path to the woods kicking pebbles with the toes of my boots, I hear footsteps light footsteps treading behind me. I already know who they belong to because I have been hunting with those footsteps all my life. But I don't turn around to face him, I just keep walking with my eyes straight forward. We walk like that, not speaking to each other until we get to the fence that borders the woods. "Katniss," he calls, "where have you been this past week? I haven't seen you once since you left my house on the reaping day." I don't answer him; I just smoothly make my way through the fence. I could hear the frustrated sigh he lets out, even though I am a good 10 feet ahead of him. "Katniss!" he yells with a frustrated tone to his voice. I finally turn around to look him in his eyes, which are full of concern and hurt. I open my mouth to speak but no words come out. Gale seems to understand my loss of words and continues to fill our silence with his own. "How are you?" he asks so earnestly. I withdraw a deep breath, "Gale," I struggle to find the right words, so it comes out blunter than anticipated, "my mother is dead."

Next thing I know, I am drowning in a flood of questions sent upon me by Gale. I spend the next hour answering Gale's monsoon of questions and explaining the entire situation. After the questions finally stop Gale pulls me into a hug, "Katniss, why didn't you tell me when you found her? I could have helped you with her body and…" I just pulled myself free from his arms and shook my head, "No Gale, it was just something I needed to handle on my own. My mother has been, was, my problem since the day my father died," I took in a sharp breath, my face still steely, "and I needed to put that problem to rest, by myself." He just nods his head understandingly, "I understand Katniss, but you shouldn't have to deal with all your problems on your own. I know you're a pretty solitary person, or at least you think you are, but shouldering some of the burden is what friends are for."

I never managed to get any actual hunting done in the woods, just a lot of talking. I didn't really realize this until my stomach let out an enormous growl on the way home. But, at that point, I was way past the Hob and my front door was in sight, and I was too tired to walk all the way back. Besides, not like I haven't spent a hungry night, or two, before.

I approached my tiny front porch, which is nothing more than a rocking chair and a few wooden planks on the ground, I noticed a bundle of white, soft looking, paper in the dingy rocking chair. Before I even picked it up, the smell of it wafted gloriously to my nose. Bread. But, there was no note or inclination as to who left. But I had a pretty good idea of who it was.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

 _Author's Note: I would like to thank those of you who have followed, faved, or reviewed this story! It means more to me than you'll ever know. Thank you!_

 _-Scarlettoharris_

Today is the day. The day the Hunger Games officially begins. 24 tributes will be shoved in an arena to kill each other, one of those being my little sister.

I sit on the raggedy love seat in the house in front of our hologram screen, clutching Prim's even more raggedy cat, Buttercup, in my arms. Before Prim left, Buttercup used to hiss and bear his pointy little canines at me whenever I was even in a 10-foot radius of him. But now that Prim and my mother are gone, it's almost like Buttercup understands that we need each other now.

I stare at the remote for quite some time, afraid to turn on the TV. Afraid of seeing Prim take her first steps into the arena and possibly dying soon after those first steps take place. But I finally work up the courage to turn on the TV. Sure enough, the tributes are already standing on pedestals in the arena, the timer counting down. The arena, this year, is a big field and some woods bordering it, it actually looks a lot like 12. The clock on the cornucopia continues to count down, seemingly faster than it should be. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. The alarm goes off with a strident buzz, signaling the tributes to get off their pedestals. Half of them head straight for the cornucopia and the other half make a b-line for the woods. Thankfully, Prim is in the latter half. I don't think she could handle the bloodbath that always takes place at the cornucopia. The camera doesn't even to bother her out the to woods, so I lose sight of her.

After staring at the TV for goodness only knows how long, hoping to catch just one more glance of Prim, I went out to the woods. When I returned home, I was almost disappointed to not find a loaf of hot bread waiting for me on the rocking chair. So I stepped inside my house and almost sat down on the love seat, but before I could fully sit, I hear a knock on the door. This is an extremely unusual occurrence; I can count on one hand how many times someone had knocked on our door. Hesitantly, I cross the room to the door and twist the knob. When I open it, I don't even register who the person is, I just take in the wonderful scent of fresh-baked bread.

"Hi," said the blue-eyed blonde boy standing at my door with fresh bread. Peeta. I didn't even know what to say to him because I have never actually spoken to him before. Are only interaction consisting of him throwing a piece of bread at me and saving me from starving to death. So I just stare at him blankly, lost in my own thoughts. He obviously becomes a little skittish under my intense stare, "Um, I feel really bad about your sister…so I brought you so bread." His cheeks flare up with red coloring at his clumsy words. "Why would you feel bad, you're not the one who gave her a one-way ticket to her grave," I deadpanned. Peeta seems almost shocked at these words, "Well, I guess not, but I still feel bad for her, and you and your mother." At the mention of feeling bad for my mother, I started laughing hysterically. Peeta's eyes grew wide, "What could you possibly be laughing at?" I had to try and stop laughing and catch my breath to answer him, "Well, Peeta, you mentioned feeling bad for my mother, which is an absolutely hilarious concept to me," gasping for breath in between laughs, "because my mother never gave a damn about me. I thought she loved me until my father died, then her true colors came to light. She really only cared about my father, and she only had Prim and me because my father begged her for children. So, she tolerated us but only for him. And after he died, she let us starve." Peeta seemed absolutely stunned by what I had just said, and he started to open his mouth as if he was about to say something but I cut him off, "but you know that because you had to throw me your scraps so I wouldn't starve." "Katniss, I still feel so bad about that," he eyes looking so honest as he says those words. I am instantly confused by this, "Why would you feel bad? You saved my life." Furrowing his brow, he tries to explain himself, "Yes, but I should have _walked_ over to you and just _handed_ you that bread instead of throwing it like a coward," he said this with so much remorse in his voice. I was stunned by this confession. "Peeta, just throwing me the bread was enough, it was more than anyone else ever did, including my own mother." He nodded slowly and sympathetically, "How is your mother handling as this by the way?". I couldn't help but chuckle darkly, "Funny you ask, she's dead."

Just like with Gale, I had to spend almost an hour explaining my mother's cowardly suicide, but this time to Peeta. And it was a much more enjoyable experience, despite the fact I had really just met him because he did much more sympathetic nodding and made more understanding comments than Gale did. When I was done going over the gory details, and the bread he brought was gone, Peeta got up from where we were sitting at my tiny kitchen table, "Katniss, I'm so, so sorry about your mother, but it was very nice to finally get to meet you, for real this time," he smiled just a little. I tried to reciprocate his smile, but I'm sure I fail miserably at it. I try to speak, but my words fail me, not that this is the first or the last time that will ever happen. Peeta senses my loss for proper words and fills in, "And, don't think you are getting rid of me so fast. I will see you tomorrow with fresh bread." I open my mouth to protest, but he is already gone.

 _Author's Note numero dos: Finally, some interaction between Peeta and Katniss! And much more to come!_

 _-Scarlettoharris_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

As promised, Peeta shows up at my door with more fresh bread. When I open the door to let him in, he is smiling like a child with a lollipop. Although this should lift my mood, it instantly makes it drop, and I can't help but question his eternal optimism, "How are you smiling like that? There is nothing to smile about right now." He doesn't seem shaken by my frosty comment, "Nice to see you too, Katniss. And I don't need a reason to smile, I just like to. Plus, sometimes by smiling, you can make other people smile too." I can't help how my face contorts with disdain after hearing that. "But that obviously is not the case when it comes to you, noted," he says this as he is slicing the hot bread. The second the first slice is cut; I snatch it off the table. Peeta starts to laugh and stops cutting bread, "I think the only thing that makes you smile is food." I feel my cheeks turn furiously red, "It's not the only thing…". "Oh really? What is then?" he quirks his eyebrows playfully at me. I just roll my eyes, "Don't worry about it Mellark," and I steal another piece of freshly sliced bread. He looks almost disappointed at my non-answer, "No, seriously, what makes you smile?"

I am not too great at telling people personal things about myself. Not even little things. So Peeta's question seemed very intrusive to me. But, I try my best to swallow my fear of becoming close to people and answer him, "Well, I really like the woods." He nods, "Okay, that's a start. What about the woods do you like so much?" I swallow hard, trying to gather my thoughts, "I like the smell… and the sounds," I say tentatively. "I wish I could say I agree with you, but I have never been to the woods so I wouldn't know what they smell or sound like." I just stare at him wide-eyed. Never been to the woods? I mean, technically it is illegal, but still. I can't imagine my life if my father had never taken me beyond the confinement of this electric fence. "Well, we are just gonna have to fix that."

The entire way to the fence Peeta tried to convince that going into the woods wasn't a good idea. "Katniss its against the law!" "Peeta, I have done this thousands of times!". When we reach the fence, he crossed his toned, tan arms and says, "It says its electric, how are we gonna get through?" with a smug grin on his face, that roughly translates to, I won. I give him an even smugger grin, "Fun fact, this fence is never on," and I slid right through. His grin fades and his face turns a little pale as he copies my movements to get through the fence.

It becomes apparent to me, once we are under the trees where all the leaves lie on the ground, that Peeta has never learned the art of stealth. Hell, he may have never even heard the word before. The loud crunching of him stepping not-so-lightly on fallen leaves and his stumbling around occasionally is the only sound I hear for the next 20 minutes walking through the woods. We finally reach my desired destination, the lake.

My father took me to this lake as a child, and its where I learned how to swim. We sat down on a large rock by the water, and Peeta inhaled a deep breath, "I see what you mean, its smells heavenly hear." I smile at the ground, "Much different than the stench of the town right?" he nods. "How did you find this place?" he asks. "My father brought me here when he was alive. It was kind of our place," I laugh at my sudden realization, "you're actually the only person I have ever brought here." He turns to me in surprise, "Not even Gale?", I shake my head, "Not even Gale." Peeta just smiles one of his bright, teeth-showing grins, "Wow, I feel special." I laugh softly, "As you should." Peeta stays quiet for a minute after I say this, but then he turns toward me and timidly asks, "Are you and Gale, like, a thing?" His highly personal question catches me off guard, but instead of feeling intruded upon, I just start laughing. Peeta turns extremely red, "What? It's a valid question!" But, as if my laughing is contagious, he starts to laugh along with me. "I'm sorry, its just that Gale and I are like family, and the thought of dating him is, is so gross its funny!" and then we start laughing again.

"Do you know how to swim?" Peeta asks inquisitively. "Yes, my father taught me how to. Do you?" He raises an eyebrow at me, "Katniss, I've never been to the woods, how would I know how to swim?" I remember our earlier conversation and why we are in the woods in the first place, "Oh right," I say sheepishly. "When it gets a little warmer outside, I can teach you. Only if you want to, of course." His eyes light up like the Capitol at night, and he grabs me by shoulders, "Yes! Would you really? Oh, thank you so much Katniss!" And before I know it, he has pulled me into a hug. Hugging Peeta is different. It's not the same family comfort I get when I hug Gale or Prim, but something more. I think he realizes too that this hug feels different, but he continues to hug me anyway, and for once, I don't mind at all.

 _Authors Note: Stjohn27: I squeezed in that hug you asked for! Thank you so much for the suggestion._

 _-Scarlettoharris_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

When I hear a knock on my door, my heart silently hopes that its Peeta with more warm bread, and I begin to smile at the thought of it. But when I open the door to find Gale standing there, my smile drops off my face. He obviously notices, "Gee, what did I do to make you look like I burnt your house to the ground?" I tried to look happy again, "Uh nothing, just wasn't expecting you." Gale raises his eyebrow in question, "Who were you expecting then?". I sighed in exasperation, "Don't worry about it, Gale. Do you want to go hunting?". Despite my best efforts to distract him, he still keeps on, "Katniss, I know what you're doing. Just tell me who you really wanted to knock on that door?". Noises of vexation erupted from my mouth, "Fine! I was expecting Peeta! Happy?". Gale looks thoroughly shocked by my admittance. "I didn't think I would ever live to see the day that Katniss Everdeen, of all people, got a crush on someone!" he said mockingly. I gasped at him, "I do not get crushes on people!" Gale just laughs, "Well what does that make Peeta then?" I just roll my eyes and cross my arms, "Gale, you are a revolving door of girlfriends, so I don't need a lecture from you about crushes." "I'm not lecturing you, I am just surprised that you chose him, the baker's boy," he says softly, with an almost undetectable amount of remorse in his voice. I scoffed, "I'm not choosing anyone Gale, and I don't have a crush on him anyway. He's just a friend, and with you going to work in the mines soon and Prim and my mom gone, I think I'm going to need friends." Gale smiles sadly, " I think that's the first time I have ever heard you say that either. But, whatever you say Catnip."

After Gale left, I decided it was time to torture myself with my daily watching of the Games. In the past couple of days, it has come down to 13 kids. All Prim has done so far is hide but this doesn't surprise me at all. Prim isn't exactly the killing type. She has mainly been climbing from tree to tree, and she rarely comes down to get some water and eat a few greens she finds in the forest. Thank goodness she has always had a thing for herbs and forest plants, due to her interest in medicine.

When I flipped on the hologram screen, I see a very close up image of Prim's face, and her piercing scream rings out. My pulse instantly quickens as the camera pans out to show what caused her to cry out. The woods she is in has burst into flames, and flaming balls of fire are being hurled at her as she runs at full speed. She is running as quick as her little legs take he and dodging the fireballs. But just as if it seems she is in the clear, one of the burning fireballs skims her thigh, and as she wails out, I do too.

After hearing Prim scream, I turned off the screen as quickly as possible. And for the past goodness only knows how long, I have been sitting here under my tiny kitchen table in fetal position. At one point I hear a knock on the door but I don't dare move from my position on the floor. After a few minutes of knocking politely, the person I at my door just walks in. And it's Peeta.

He looks around the house for a minute until he finds me softly rocking on the floor. He immediately looks just as panicked as I'm sure I do, "Katniss, Katniss, what's wrong?" Peeta drops to his knees on the floor and attempts to extract me from under the table, but I don't budge. Peeta doesn't try to get me to move, he just sits with me. I don't know how long we sit there on the floor together; it could have been minutes or hours. But the entire time, Peeta just looks at me with a look of concern.

Finally, I extend my arm to Peeta, accepting his help off the floor. When we are both standing on two feet, he leads me over to the couch where we sit. I stare blankly at the floor until Peeta draws my attention back to him, "Are you ready to tell me what happened?" My eyes move upward to meet his, "Prim got hurt today," and I begin to recount the grisly details of what occurred in the Games today.

Once I am sufficiently calmed down, Peeta comes up with an idea, "How about I cook you some food? I know how much you love food, so it should make you feel better," he says with one of his famous smiles. "Peeta you don't have to do that, I'm fine a promise," I say with a not-so-convincing smile. But he presses on, "No you aren't fine, and even if you were, I still want to cook for you." I smile a half-grin, "Fine, you know I can't resist food," "Yes, I do know that " he grins, "just let me go grab some ingredients from my house. I will be back before you know it." And before I can answer, he is out the door.

When he leaves, I feel the sudden pathological need to tidy up the house. I start with kitchen, then the living room, then the room that Prim and I used to share, and finally a place I haven't dare go into in quite some time, my mother's room, or what was her room. It is the smallest room in the house, only large enough to fit a small mattress, and small table wooden table where she used to get ready. I walk over to the table and picked up my mother's cracked mirror and look at myself. I am nothing special to look at. There is nothing about my features that stick out or even seem pretty. I have plain brown hair, not golden blonde like Prim. I don't share naturally long and thick eyelashes and blue eyes that Prim and my mother did. Whenever I used to walk around town with Prim, people were constantly fawning over her looks. She doesn't have the typical Seam look, but I do. Which is brown hair, olive complexion, and gray eyes. Nothing special. But, I've gotten used to that, hell I like not drawing everyone eyes to me. Actually, the only person's eyes that are drawn to me are Peeta's. At first, this made me extremely uncomfortable, but recently I have grown comfortable under his warm gaze. And when his gaze is not looking over me, I feel a little lonely.

When Peeta is back from gathering ingredients, things become a blur of chopping food, boiling water, and stirring a delicious smelling liquid. The product of all his arduous work was a very simple looking soup. We were both sitting at the table and he says, "I know this doesn't look like much, but I promise its great, kinda like you." He instantly reddens once he processes his words, "Katniss I, I didn't mean it like that, I just meant that-" "Its fine, I know what you mean, I'm not pretty like that." His mouth gapes a little but then he straightens himself and sits up a little, "I think you're gorgeous," he says quickly. I blush profusely, and look to meet his eyes, wearing a slightly stunned expression on my face, "Oh, thank you, but you didn't have to say that." He just shakes his head, "I didn't say it out of obligation; I have been wanting to tell you that for forever."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

 _Author's Note: Thank you so much for your kind reviews! : you are so sweet, I'm so glad you like the story! I hope y'all love the chapter!_

 _-Scarlettoharris_

I have never been good at expressing my feelings, like at all. So when Peeta told me that he thinks I'm pretty, well the word he used was gorgeous, I had no idea what to see. I just stared at the floor, then stared at him, then at the floor again. The entire time I had no clue what to say. Should I have accepted the compliment or just brushed it off with a laugh? Anything would have been better than staring at him as mute as an avox.

Maybe Peeta just felt bad for me, thought I needed an emotional pick me up. I'm a pretty easy person to feel bad for right now, my mother is dead and my sister is practically doomed to die a very public, very grisly death. So, I might as well just write off his compliment completely. It will make things easier, and less awkward, for the both of us.

Gale and I had one of our most successful hunts ever today. So, I decide to take all my extra game into town to sell or trade. When my game bag is empty, I head home. As I am walking along the path that leads to the far end of the town where my house is, I see a very familiar face. But instead of this face being bright and smiling, it looks unusually panicked. The blue eyes that belong to this face are searching desperately around for something until they land upon me. Peeta practically runs up to me, "Katniss, oh my gosh, you're okay," he sighs in relief, "I went to your house and, and you weren't there and I got really worried." I don't know what to think about this overflow of emotions from him. "I'm fine, I'm fine. I was just in town. No need to be worried," I say as soothingly as possible. Peeta tries to reign in his panic, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to freak you out. It's just that with what your mother did… I don't know, I just worry about you, that's all." He is all exasperated and red in the face from trying to explain himself. And for some reason, I find it endearing, "Its okay, its actually nice to have someone look out for me, for once in my life," then I lean in, and as lightly as possible kiss his cheek, feeling a little bit of electricity exchange in our touch. Suddenly bashful, I retreat back into my own space with my eyes cast downward, not wanting to see his reaction to my bold move. Still not looking up, I feel him lightly place a few fingers under my chin. He uses those fingers to gently tilt my chin upward so my eyes settle upon his. He is smiling a smile as radiant as the sun, "I will always be here to look out for you Katniss."

Knowing that someone is there to look out for my best interests, rather than the other way around, makes the weight on my shoulders just a little lighter. But not by much because I have realized that when you start trusting people is when they disappoint you the most. And if one more person breaks my trust, I don't know how I will recover from it. So, I'm just going to put an ounce or two of my trust in Peeta, so that if he spills it all over the floor, it won't be a big deal.

When I break away from my own thoughts, Peeta is still smiling his 1000-watt smile at me. I can't help from also smiling, it's like his smiles are contagious, but my smile isn't at quite the wattage Peeta's is at. I don't think I could ever even hold a candle to the smile on his face. Without his smile fading, he asks, "Can we go somewhere so I can tell you a story?". "Uh, sure?" I answer with uncertainty in voice. He attempts to grab me by the hand, but I pull my hand away from his grip. His eyebrows shoot up and form squiggly lines of wrinkles on his forehead and his eyes go soft, "Please, trust me." So, I take every bit of trust I have left in me and use it to place my small, calloused hand in his large, supple one

 _.Author's Note: Sooo this is kind of a short chapter because I'm currently suffering from a mild case of writer's block… but I promise there will be better and brighter things to come!_

 _-Scarlettoharris_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Peeta leads me through the town square to an extremely surprising location, our school. It's deserted right now because we are out on our very short summer break. "Peeta what are we doing here?". He replies in a sing-song voice, "Just trust me," I just roll my eyes at this. We step through the double doors into the dark, dank building. District 12's school is nothing to brag about, just one straight hallway where we spend our days learning about basic math and English, but most importantly coal, because the end game for every citizen of 12 is to work in a coal mine.

We walk down the long, depressing hallway to the very last room, and the smallest of all, the choir room. I look around at the instruments, most of them old as dirt and broken. I honestly can't remember the last time I was in this room. I give Peeta a confused look, "Why did you have to tell me the story in a musty old choir room?". He gestures for me to sit down in one of the super tiny chairs made for little kids, and I do. He continues to walk around the room, admiring it as if it were made of pure gold, "Because, this is the room where I first laid eyes on you,". I stuttered a little, "Wha-a-at do," I swallowed hard to try and erase the lump in my throat, "do you mean?" Peeta just smiles easily, pulls up a chair, and plops down in front of me, "Well, we were probably 6 or 7, you know when they still make you take classes like music. And I didn't notice you until you sang," he laughs a little, "at that time, you were wearing two braids instead of one." He reaches out and gently touches my braid, "You were the only one in that class who could sing a single note." I smile sadly, "I got it from my dad, he was the singer in the family,". Peeta smiles back, but with more warmth, "Ever since I heard you sing that day, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you." "Peeta, I-," But then I hear a piercing scream through the halls of the school, that could only belong to one person, Prim.

I run through the school, powered by pure adrenaline. I keep running until I am busting out of the school's double doors, and looking at the giant screen on the square, where all of the screaming is coming from. People are so crowded around the screen, that I can barely see. So I push them out of the way in a blind, adrenaline-fueled panic, until I can see Prim's face on the screen. She is still wailing, like Buttercup after I poured a bucket of water on him, and running the woods with tree limbs smacking her in the face, and she almost trips on roots that are lying exposed on the forest floor. The camera pans away to the face of her assailants, a pack of Careers armed with menacing-looking weapons. Tears are now streaming down my face, soaking my cheeks. I feel a muscly arm press up against mine, and I look to see Peeta standing beside me and looking up at the screen with an expression of horror on his face. I look back to screen, just in time to see a Career throw a spear straight through Prim's stomach. The camera pans back to her face, her eyes go wide and her face drains of color. She doesn't scream or cry, but I do.

I drop to my knees onto the ground, with tears streaming down my cheeks and onto the red dirt. I can't bear to look up at the screen to see my little sister bleed out while the Careers laugh and point. I feel a pair of strong arms wrap around my middle and give me a slight squeeze. Peeta has sunk down on his knees behind me and rests his chin on my shoulder, and I feel his wispy blonde hairs tickle my ears as he speaks, "Katniss, I know this is the last thing you want to do, but you should really look up at the screen now." I painstakingly tilt my head up towards the screen. What I expect to see is Prim's face crumples and soaked in tears, but that's not what I see at all. Prim's face is bone dry and she looks serious. She is trying to be brave, that's my Prim. I continue to cry enough tears for the both of us, with Peeta's arms still wrapped around me, and he is whispering soothing words in my ears.

The Careers lose interest in Prim as she begins to take her final gasping breaths. As soon as they sprint away to go murder some more children, a tiny figure swings down from a tree and runs to where Prim is laying on the ground. It's Rue, the girl from 11. She kneels down to Prim and puts a hand on her face gently, "Shhh, shhh, its okay, its okay," she coos softly. Prim nods, still not shedding a tear, "I just wanted to make it home to my sister, Rue. I just wanted to make her proud." I make a gasping sound and clap my hand over my mouth, if Prim is being strong I need to be too. On screen, Rue continues to console Prim, "She is proud of you, so proud, Prim,". Prim nods, unable to speak. In her last moments, Prim looks into the camera, her face steely and harsh, and weakly takes three things, brings them to her mouth, kisses them, and turns her three fingers toward the camera. This is a gesture that people in the districts use, it means goodbye. Then, her hands fall back to the ground, and just like that, she is gone. The moment Prim is gone; tears start to fall from Rue's face. She leans over Prim's body, takes her hand and uses it to close Prim's eyes. Then, she goes to leave Prim's body, but she stops in her tracks when she sees some wildflowers. She runs over to the wildflower patch and starts to pluck them from the ground. I look around the square and all the people's facial expression mimic my own, a look of confusion. Rue starts to position the flowers around Prim's body, like a funeral. Once she is done, she also looks at the camera with a steely expression and gives it the same three finger gesture.

 _Author's Note: I can already hear the terrified gasps, yes I killed Prim. Yes, another bold choice. But what is writing if you don't make the bold choices?_

 _Lots of love,_

 _-Scarlettoharris_


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Although the three finger gesture is a sign of peace and love in some of the districts, the Capitol doesn't view it that way. The Capitol sees it as a sign of rebellion of defiance. So after Prim and Rue shoved three fingers toward the camera, the Capitol had to take action. For the first time, in history probably, they turned off the games in 12.

Right after Rue's gesture, the screen went black and just disappeared. The crowds that have accumulated in the square start looking around in utter confusion. But, I don't share their look of confusion, I am relieved. I can't bear to look at that screen any longer; I can't bear to look at my sister's pale, stiff body any longer. Once they all realize that the games aren't coming back anytime soon, the crowds start to dissipate. But, I just remain there on my knees in the red dirt. Peeta stays with me too, with his arms wrapped around me and chin still resting on my shoulder. We stay quiet for a very long time. I feel as if I have literally lost the ability to speak from pure shock.

"Katniss we should really get you home," Peeta says as he attempts to pull me off the ground, but I don't budge. I wrestle myself from his arms and turn myself around, so I am facing him, "I don't have a home anymore,". Peeta looks like a confused puppy, "Yes you do, its not too far from here-," "No Peeta, Prim was my home! She was all that I had since my dad died, and now she's gone! Just like everyone I care about…" Peeta shakes his head, "There may not be anyone left you care about, but there are still tons of people left who care about you. Gale, his family, oh and don't forget Buttercup," this made me laugh a hiccupy little laugh, "and…me,". I look up at him, "You care about me?". He places a soft hand on the side of my face, "Always have, always will," he smiles at me. I notice for the first time that his face too is streaked with tears. He had been crying for Prim. Something in me, commanded me to lean forward and kiss the streaks of tears on his face. Peeta places a hand on my waist and pulls me a little close to him. My breath hitches in my throat, and I pull my face back so were are looking at each other, our noses almost touching. Peeta speaks very breathily, "I know you get scared of lots of emotions and sudden movements, so I'll just tell you. I'm going to kiss you now, okay?". I just nod my head slightly, and the next thing I know Peeta's lips are pressed against mine. Our arms cling at each other's backs, pulling us closer and closer to one another. I don't know how long we sat there on the ground in the town square, entangled by our lips and arms. But at some point we disconnect and finally stand up off the ground. Peeta attempts to hold my hand, but out of surprise I jerk my hand away. Peeta looks slightly hurt by my show of disaffection, "Trust me?", he asks offering his right hand to me with supple palms facing upward toward the sky. I look down at his hand and then up at him, into his eyes full of honesty and morality, and take his hand. Then, we walk hand in hand away from the square.

When we reach the door of my house I detangle my hand from his and begin to twist the doorknob it, but Peeta takes hold of my hand before I can. He twists me around to face him, "Katniss with all that happened," his face reddens just a little but his expression remains grave, "I forgot to tell you that I am so sorry about Prim,". My heart drops when I hear her name again, "I'm going to miss her, but I would rather her be wherever she is now than still stuck in that arena, just another pawn in the Capitol's game." He nods understandingly, gives my hand a final squeeze then lets it fall to my side. "Are you sure you are going to be okay here by yourself tonight?" Peeta asks earnestly. "I have been here by myself every night since the reaping. Tonight will be no different," I say. He gives me a knowing yet sympathetic look, "You know what I mean, Katniss," I smile slightly, "yes I do, and I will be fine, I promise,". Peeta laughs a little, "Okay, since you promised," he jokes. "Goodnight Peeta Mellark," I say with a flourish. "Goodnight Katniss Everdeen," Peeta says as he does a silly bow. It almost made me feel better.

The next morning, I sleep in for the first time since my dad died. Usually I am up and in the woods before sunrise, but today is slept in well past sunrise. When I finally managed to push my sleep-ridden bones out of bed, I begin to look around the house. Everything in this damn house reminds me of Prim. There is nothing I can look at and her face not come to mind. I walk over to the tiny desk we shared and open her notebook. Its full of medicine jargon that only made sense to her and my mother. Even though its completely useless to me, I can't bear to through it away, or any of her stuff for that matter. It will all just stay here and stare me in the face everyday. I walk over to our tiny closet where our very few articles of clothing are kept. I pick up her favorite blue dress and hold it up to my face, and I breathe in her scent. Prim always managed to smell like she had been cooking something although she rarely did. She didn't smell like fresh bread and flour how Peeta does, but she smelled like she had been cooking something. I just can't put my finger on what that might be.

I stand there for a while, picking up different articles of what was her clothing and breathing in her scent. Until I hear the sound of trucks going past my house, so I put her clothes back quickly and rush out my front door. All the way down the road all I can see is giant, white, armored peacekeepers' trucks teeming with peacekeepers. But, they are not 12's regular peacekeeper crowd. They have obviously been sent in from somewhere, but why? Even though I know I should stay inside, my curiosity gets the best of me. I decide to follow the line of trucks to see where they might be going. I suspected the town square, but they actually lead me to the Hob. I hide behind a building and peek around so I can see what's going on. I am instantly confused by this, what would a bunch of peacekeepers possibly want with a tiny black market in District 12?

Like they are all thinking with the same brain, all the peacekeepers jump down from their armored trucks. As each one jumps down they pull their gun from its holster, and they run into the Hob. I expect to hear the metallic bang of gunfire, but nothing. And then comes the screams, the vendors inside the Hob start wailing like dogs. But, I don't budge from my safe position. I just continue to watch, straining my ears to hear what could be causing their screams. But then, smoke starts to pour out of the openings of the Hob and the screams intensify. Before I know it, my legs are running me into the Hob. When I enter the Hob, smoke starts burning my eyes and nose. I can barely see its so thick. But, I can make out the peacekeepers shooting fire from their guns, and the Hob, like everything in 12, is covered in a fine layer of coal dust so it burns like a match. I stumble around for a minute trying to figure out what I should do. But then I see Greasy Sae, who had just been knocked to the ground by a crude peacekeeper. I run over to her and immediately notice her eye is bleeding profusely. "Please, let me help me you," she nods her head and lets me help her up off the ground and out of the burning Hob.

When we get outside, we both crash to the ground hacking from all the smoke. I can barely see because the smoke burned my eyes so badly, but I see a blurry figure running up to me. "Catnip," it must be Gale, "are you okay? What is happening?". "Yes I'm fine, and the peacekeepers just showed up and started burning the Hob. I don't know why." I can barely speak I am coughing so much. "You're not fine, you're coughing up a lung. Let's get you away from here,". "Wait no you need to help Greasy Sae first, her eye is really hurt," I look around for her and see her a little ways away hugging a young girl who is crying. Gale just pulls me up off the ground, "she looks fine Katniss, let's get the hell out of her before the peacekeepers start burning people," I nod in concession. We start to walking, me leaning on Gale for support, but we are stopped by a voice that could cut ice, "I am looking for this girl," he holds up a picture but I can't see who it is. Gale takes in a sharp breath, "Katniss lets go, now," "Who is he looking for?" I ask. "It doesn't matter," Gale says sharply. I hear another unfamiliar voice, "There she is! That's the girl in the picture, Katniss Everdeen!". I freeze, afraid to turn around and face my fate. Gale frantically tries to pull me away, but I can't move. I hear loud footsteps approach me from behind, "Turn around, now," says the voice that probably belongs to the footsteps. I turn slowly, and I am looking up into the face of a middle-aged man peacekeeper. His face is extremely harsh looking, and he holds the picture up beside my face to compare the two. He seems slightly pleased and nods, "Katniss Everdeen you have to come with me," and he grabs my arm that Gale is holding.

I don't know what to do or feel about this, but I can feel Gale's anger bubbling up. He also refuses to let go of my arm, "No she doesn't! Who even are you?" The peacekeeper turns around and gets very close to Gale's face, "I am commander Thread. Top peacekeeper and right hand to President Snow. That's who I am, boy,". I finally manage to talk, "W-where are you taking me?". "I have a personal message for you, from President Snow,".

 _Author's Note: Sorry I haven't posted in a while, but don't worry, I haven't forgotten about y'all!_

 _-Xoxo, Scarlettoharris_


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